


Future Days

by DaisyRabbit



Series: The Dance Of A Bird And A Doe [1]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Had a 1000 word limit and made this, Might make a longer sequel if I feel like it, PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Short One Shot, Written for a Class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyRabbit/pseuds/DaisyRabbit
Summary: An AU where Johanna insists on dancing with Katniss at Annie and Finnick's District 13 wedding.  Just finished mocking jay two days ago, and really liked Katniss and Johanna's dynamic, so I made this lol.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen & Johanna Mason
Series: The Dance Of A Bird And A Doe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030278
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Future Days

" _They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love._ "

There was laughter, carrying musically above the lone fiddler who survived the bombing.

I watch the dozens of men and women from the districts dance in the bright yellow lights, some graceful, some moving in stiff, uneven movements. It made no matter. Even the prospect of a wedding being more than a paper signing was enough to raise the spirits of the residents of district 13. 

Clapping with the beat, I stand at the edge of the water, content. Alone. I loosen, feeling a warmth in my chest. 

The hand on my shoulder causes me to flinch, I turn wildly, thinking it was bloody Haymitch. 

“Are you going to miss the chance to let Snow see you dancing?” she says smugly, a small smile under the dark shadows of her eyes. 

Johanna. 

The morphling withdrawal was showing in the sweat of her forehead, in the slight twitch of her fingers. I move to remove the hand, but Johanna holds tight, not letting go. “What-” I start, a scowl threatening to rise, but I’m cut off immediately. “And what better to show him then the Mockingjay partying with a friend?” I raise an eyebrow.

  
  


Is this Johanna Mason’s way of inviting me to dance? 

I hesitate, looking into her dark and large eyes, waiting and... _Vulnerable._ “My ribs ache,” I say simply, glancing over at Prim. Prim just smiled.

I frown.

“Suuure, like some sore ribs ever stopped you, Katnip” she snorts, and I resist the urge to slap her for using that nickname. And at the same time, I don’t know what to make of the butterflies starting to flutter in my stomach: bringing persistent warmth that spreads from my heart to the ends of my toes. I look over again, and Prim is already gone, dancing with a boy from 13. Johanna stares at me. “...Fine. I’ll go-” I say. 

It’s enough apparently. 

She grabs my hands and twirls me onto the dance floor, where I barely catch my balance. “C’mon, I’ll teach you how they dance back home.” she swings me around in a twirl, and starts slow. “You got it?” Johanna asks after a minute, looking at my sloppy footwork. I must look awfully frustrated, because Johanna slows down, even more, going step by step. Slowly, I begin to match her speed clumsily. “I don’t care if you’re knocked up or if your ribs hurt- Move that right foot quicker!” She twirls me again, huffing. “I’m trying!” I protest, matching her swings and rapid movements.

  
  


1, 2, 3,4. 

I slide my foot right and twirl.

Left, then twirl. 

Swing to the side, swaying to the beat of the fiddle. 

She goes silent. I look up and see a quiet expression on her face. “What?” my eyes narrow. “I’m guessing you’ve had a lot of practice back in 12.” She murmurs, in awe. Of course, I have. What else was there to do in the winters? 

“Prim always makes an excellent dance partner.”

Prim- Putting on mother’s dresses with me by the fireplace… laughing and singing father’s songs while we dance. The Hanging Tree when mother was dead to the world, The Bringer of Joy and Gifts when Gale came over. 

I linger onto the image of the fireplace. Such a docile thing to the common eye. Yet the heat and smoke begin to envelop me in a fog, such that no Mockingjay could fly out of. I choke. District 12. The bombings. The ashen corpses. Peeta’s family. 

“Katniss?” a sharp voice cuts in. 

I blink.

Johanna is looking at me, brow furrowed and eyes wrinkled with concern. Another one of these episodes I keep getting...I try to brush it off, managing a fake smile. For the cameras and Plutarch, at least. 

She’s unconvinced. It takes me a second to realize my nails are digging into her back harshly. I move to remove them but flinch when Johanna holds me tighter, moving into a slow dance. I mumble some excuse about 12 and home, nearly incoherent. The former District 7 tribute stares into my eyes, studying me. Seeing straight through me. Johanna nods slightly. To say something that can’t be formed into words.

Johanna understands, I realize. She knows what I’ve been through, what it’s like to lose everyone. I can see it in her scars, in her eyes. 

Behind that smug outward appearance, she once donned. 

We dance in silence for the next few moments. Johanna seemed to want to speak a few times, but swallowed her words and kept on dancing. It was a simple gesture; Silence.

But it was more than a few words could have ever given me. 

As I’m spun into a wide circle of district 12 refugees showing off their footwork, leaving Johanna behind, I can’t take my mind off of her. My sister runs up to me, taking my hand in hers as she reconnected the circle. “You guys were great out there!” “Really? I doubt it, Greasy Sae took the spotlight” “Oh, please,” Prim rolls her eyes, skipping her feet. “At least Johanna got the chance to dance, she probably wouldn’t have participated if not for you.” 

I mull this over, scanning the room for Johanna. Gone. Back at our compartment most like. I sigh, and dance a while longer, savoring the festivities. My heart races, from both exertion and emotion. The dance no longer catches my interest, and I find myself sneaking glances at the exits. 

Should I stay or should I go?

I take a deep breath and make my decision.

  
  
  


\-----

“No need to thank me, Katnip.” She laughs, helping me as I try to form the words running in my head. 

“It’s the least I could do. If anything, you were doing me a favor, it felt nice to dance again.” 

I smile at that, turning over and shutting off the lights. “Goodnight, Johanna...”

“...And thank you.”

  
  
  



End file.
